From high altitude the lake was a blue spot in endless mountain grey-greens; yet, with feet on the ground, it was a poet’s daydream. The air was a hum of dragonflies, the grass a riot of asters and, in a wide arcing circle, grew softly waving evergreens. In the seasons of ambient air, the fragrance of that valley was a timeless fingerprint. It spoke of days centuries past in the same whisper as future’s promise. It was our sanity, that place, in a world of mad-hatters.
"For writers in the next half century and beyond, a comprehension of how creative writing, neurology, biology and our environment interact will be essential for a successful career."
- a link to the full article is in my bio and on the Descriptionari "About" page.
- you can email me using either AngelaCarolineAbraham@gmail.com or AngelaDescriptionari@outlook.com for a quote on tutoring and/or editing services.
Much love!!!
Angela Abraham (Daisy)
My soul, you see, is a pretty poem on paper scrunched and charred. In time, with care, she will unfold again and the words will be as beautiful as they ever were.
"Adjective and noun associations are worthy of our consideration because by careful linkage of words such as 'black' with strong emotionally positive words (such as in 'black heavens' and 'noble black night') we can start to program subconscious bias from the brain by creating a background neurochemistry that is more positive. This keeps the prefrontal cortex more fully operational and encourages more empathy in both thoughts and behaviours. Thus society develops better through their own choices and evolves. This is part of social evolution and this kind of awareness in writers is essential."
I have fought these long years in efforts I pray are not in vain. It is my duty to keep you safe. In that I must either win or give my life to its cause. Yet as there is no pride in cowardice, there is nothing gained by the foolhardy. And so, in my autumnal years, even as winter calls, I stand on guard for thee. Weep not for my struggle, yet be warmed by my love. And for the pain I could not save you from, let me have my tears.
To the sun-bleached grey, upon the industrial hour, came the lazy thunder. Feet dragged. Hard soles clomped. Faces were as grim as the obsidian sky. Soon the rumbles below were met by rumbles above and the first bolt cleaved the heavens. The soaking came not drop by drop, yet as a New Year’s plunge.
The quarry was a rocky pit no longer. The once granite faces were alive with waving fronds. Their foliage, as years passed, was becoming earth with a freckling of flowers. In their time they too would become the soil and, in more time still, we’d be standing upon a new meadow. The tincture of nature will become a bathing aroma. The ground will regain its natural cushioning.
"When we make daily choices that are emotionally indifferent, the sort that the money-nexus makes faux-virtues of, we build our capacity for emotional indifference at the direct expense of our capacity for empathy, and thus the conflict between money and love is laid bare."
"It turns out, as obviousness would have it, that our brains (especially those of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in this case) have been teaching us neurology through comic books and the movies that have come from them."
Full article linked to from my profile, click "abraham" below, awesome!!
We’d been in the darkness for time out of mind. Twisted trees grew with such a density that no dapple of light shone. To travel a circle, or to travel a straight line, all was the same in the dinge and gloom. A bird of warning, a bird of song, each chilled the nerves as much. Breathing fast and shallow, we startled at mice as much as bears. WIth lungs of stagnant air, with shoes a sorrowful drench, even our songs were a warp of what once they’d merrily been.